The Redwoods Rise and Fall

by Ross Turner

  ‘A task such as yours requires determination, resolve, and an iron-clad will so impenetrable that it is unmatched. Sadly, young Vivian, it is the case that such things are forged only through pain and suffering, as you have unfortunately come to learn…’

  Their words were laced and laden with the intricacies of bitter truth, and Vivian found that her immediate acceptance of them was almost entirely painless.

  ‘How many souls does the plague still consume?’ Vivian asked the great forests then. ‘Are many of our own still affected by it?’ Determination replaced Vivian’s despair, and her focus shifted to something that was barely even human.

  ‘As one would expect, young Vivian…’ The great Redwood Forest began, seemingly accepting Vivian’s immediate and automatic transformation in an instant. ‘Such a thing could only have been born from the Greystone’s evil, considering their everlasting lust for power. And so, it has remained only in the creatures in the farthest and hardest to reach extents of our borders. These poor souls were the furthest from the influence of your power, and so, those of them not strong enough to resist the plague, remained still succumbed to it.’

  ‘But it hasn’t killed them?’ Vivian questioned.

  ‘Indeed not.’ The Redwoods replied. ‘Perhaps though, in some ways, it might have been better if it had…’

  ‘How so?’ The young Featherstone asked.

  ‘As is the everlasting power of the forest, in many equal and opposite ways to the evil of the Greystones, some creatures were able to resist the plague, with your help.’

  Vivian immediately thought of Emerson, for some reason, and somehow subconsciously knew that he was included within that group.

  The many voices of the Redwoods continued.

  ‘But others were not so fortunate, and didn’t have the strength to resist it entirely. You were still only touching the very edges of your power, and thus, over such great distances, its effect waned.’

  A lump of guilt caught in Vivian’s throat, though of course she’d had no way of knowing.

  The Redwoods continued.

  ‘They were able to survive the plague, and it did not kill then, but over time it infected their bodies and their minds, and even their very thoughts.’

  ‘And now the Greystone’s evil lives on.’ Vivian concluded sombrely.

  The haunting and sorrowful silence that followed confirmed Vivian’s suspicions, and indeed also explained to her why she had felt the Greystone’s terrible lust so many times of late.

  An idea began to form in Vivian’s mind then. Of course, she had no way of hiding it from the vast Redwoods all around her, but equally, they had no way of stopping her, regardless of how much they might have wanted to.

  Such was the extent of her power.

  ‘How have I been summoning the creatures of the woodlands?’ Vivian asked then, glancing around briefly at the creatures sat still about her as she cradled Kael’s lifeless body.

  ‘You are their saviour, Vivian.’ The Redwoods replied simply. ‘If you call, even if you do so subconsciously, they will come.’

  ‘All of them?’ She questioned, and again there was silence for a moment, as the Redwoods realised Vivian’s intentions.

  ‘Yes.’ Came the Redwoods eventual, though admittedly wary, reply. ‘Even those still diseased by the Greystone’s evil are loyal to you, though they might wish to harm you, you still saved their lives…’

  The hundreds upon thousands of whispering voices wavered slightly as they gave Vivian the explanation she desired, for they could sense exactly what she planned to do with it, and knew she would not be swayed from her decision.

  And so, with that, perhaps the most important and momentous decision of her life, finally made, Vivian stretched out her vast thoughts and touched the very corners of the Redwoods Empire. She found the task easy, though clearly it was something she’d been unable to do all those years ago, when she’d believed that she had first vanquished the Greystones’ evil. Over time her power had grown and developed, and now, it seemed, there was nothing that could stop it.

  The early morning sun peeked its head cautiously over the horizon, streaming light across the tips of the great Redwood ocean. Jutting up amongst the vast landscape, stained black and grey against the red all about it, Featherstone Keep protruded dangerously into the brightening sky.

  Vivian saw everything in that moment: all of the creatures and animals around her, in every direction to the furthest and most distant reaches of her vast empire. She encompassed them all simultaneously, both those free from the plague, and those bound by it. Regardless though, they all longed for her help, for her protection, for her to save them.

  But the young Featherstone knew, just as the people of Virtus had wished she would save them, that she couldn’t.

  It simply wasn’t possible.

  As much as they might have believed that she had done, it wasn’t the case.

  They had saved themselves.

  She was the virtus of the People - The People’s Power - supposedly. But Vivian knew now, amongst every else, that she had only ever provided direction. She may have set things in motion, but she was a figurehead, a symbol, a light amidst the darkness.

  They hadn’t needed a saviour. They had simply needed guidance. They had built their own lives back up from the dust, not her.

  So now, not only faced with the duty of once again removing the Greystone threat, but also cleansing the whole of the vast Redwood Forest, right to its farthest reaches, Vivian somehow realised that, in fact, this task was no different.

  Virtus was now thriving and, seemingly, totally self-sufficient without her. She wasn’t required any more, now that she had re-established the House. If she could save the Redwoods, she knew the same thing would happen, and after the initial shock of it all, she would again no longer be needed. She could finally be free.

  She had saved Virtus, or rather set things in motion, by killing the Greystones. And now here, somehow, for some reason, their plague still resided in the souls of these poor creatures.

  As much as Vivian didn’t want to take their lives, she had done plenty of things in the past that she hadn’t wanted to, and certainly hadn’t enjoyed. She had endured too many dreadful pains that no one should have to go through.

  She would just have to grin and bear it, one last time. It had to be done. She had to rid the world of this evil once and for all, no matter the cost.

  She had to balance the scales, for, in reality, that was all that was being asked of her.

  That was all that had ever been asked of her.

  The young Featherstone turned her attention back to the creatures she could sense all around her then, all the way through the vast Redwoods, their senses all turned towards Featherstone Keep, eagerly awaiting their summons. The difference between them in her mind now was so obvious: those that were infected and those that weren’t, and even from so far away as they were, she could still feel them longing to kill her.

  “Come and claim me then” She taunted them then, her thoughts thrown with such authority that they instantly became a command.

  And so, in that single instant, Vivian called to her old home, the great Featherstone Keep, every creature from the entire Redwood Empire, both good and evil, cleansed and infected alike. They all descended upon her like great crashing waves, oblivious to the mayhem that was about to ensue.

  Whatever the outcome, today, this would be settled, once and for all.

  20

  Vivian heard them first, as did the bears and wolves still sat about her. Their ears pricked up and their eyes widened with the realisation at what Vivian had just done, for they of course couldn’t sense her thoughts in the way the Redwoods could.

  The screeching and bellowing roars that ripped through the trees and across the sky in that moment were deafening, and instilled with the chilling knowledge of battle just on the horizon.

  “Get down to the gates!” Vivian ordered those creatures sat around her still, and they imm
ediately obeyed, charging down the corridor in an instant, responding to the roars echoing down the vast hallways just as much as they did to Vivian’s instruction.

  For a blissful moment then Vivian found herself alone, and once again cradled Kael’s now cold carcass. Wiping tears from her eyes, she laid him to rest upon the cold, hard stone, peeling her hands from his clothes and skin, sticky with blood.

  She wanted to say goodbye somehow, but she couldn’t bring herself to even kiss his forehead.

  It was too late.

  Her Kael was gone now.

  With tears standing in her eyes, Vivian turned her back on him and tore down the corridor, careering round a corner at the end and charging up the winding spiral staircase.

  She climbed and climbed, her legs burning from the exertion, but she did not stop. Soon her chest was heaving and she was so short on breath she was practically wheezing, but still she did not relent. It was as if she was punishing herself for something, for many things, which were simply out of her control.

  Finally, after what felt like yet another lifetime, Vivian burst through the door to the room that had always been hers.

  From her perch in the smallest window of the highest tower of her home, Vivian threw her gaze across the stony mountains in the far distance to the south, lighted gold and yellow and orange, and somehow even purple and blue in the morning sunlight.

  And just as she did, her eyes coming to rest upon those great peaks so far away, the black dragon exploded from the horizon, bellowing its ear splitting screech as it did so, its massive form majestic and dreadful against the glorious back dropped skies.

  From her window too Vivian could see the sea of trees all around her shaking and succumbing as all manner of creatures poured towards the Keep, responding to her summons, looking up to her with a mixture of longing and desperation.

  Then, amidst the flurries of red and brown coats swarming below her. Vivian could also see dots of black darting between the trees as wolves and bears and even some unnamed creatures pursued her.

  And so the battle began.

  The second those beasts burst from the undergrowth and onto the killing grounds that were the lands surrounding Featherstone Keep, blood began to flow.

  The sight that beheld Vivian then was a gruesome one, as animals of all shapes and sizes crashed into each other, ripping flesh and muscle from bones and tendons, tossing them away, and then charging again, spraying blood and bile and other such substances in all directions.

  At first it seemed that the fields below her were simply dotted with black shapes, but soon enough more and more began to pour from the shadows of the trees, and the piles of dead began to rise high.

  Unable to look upon the devastation any longer without intervening, for it was entirely her doing, Vivian’s body began to move. Her muscles acted even without her permission, and her limbs manoeuvred the young Featherstone up on the ledge of the window she was observing from. She squeezed through the narrow gap without a second thought, even as if her actions were preordained.

  She paused for a second and glanced up, seeing the horrendous black dragon hurtling towards her through the brightening morning sky, its gaze fixed solely on her.

  And then she jumped.

  Vivian leapt from her perch, sailing out away from the tower, weightless for a single, magnificent moment, but for a moment only, before she plummeted to the ground like a rock, faster and faster, gaining terrifying speed.

  Within seconds the earth was upon her, and her feet smashed into the ground with a crack like thunder. Beneath Vivian’s weight and tremendous force the very ground shook, turning every head in her direction. But she did not wait to judge their responses, and instead leapt straight into action.

  Clawing through the air with all the speed she could muster, Vivian hurtled towards an enormous black bear immediately to her left, smashing into the brute’s chest before it had time to react. With a satisfying crack the beast reeled backwards and bellowed in pain. But that wasn’t enough for young Vivian, and her attack signalled the battles around her to reignite, as she launched herself onto the bear and pummelled its face with her bare hands. Instilled with the strength of her vast power, delivering dreadful blows, she crushed the brute’s skull into oblivion.

  The bear reminded Vivian briefly of Clover, when she had been infected by the plague, but that memory didn’t last long, as she poured every ounce of her efforts into reigniting the battle she had already started.

  Suddenly then, her actions lighted by the rising, early morning sun, Vivian whipped her gaze round, sensing she was in danger. And sure enough, just as she was swept into darkness, the sunlight illuminating her blotted out by great, black wings, the terrible dragon was upon her.

  The great serpent bore down towards her with its monstrous talons outstretched, cascading towards the ground with tremendous speed.

  It was all Vivian could do to avoid the monster’s grasp as she dove desperately to the side, barely scraping her escape. She landed heavily and winded herself, but that didn’t matter.

  The great, black dragon screeched in anger and frustration as its claws sunk into earth and carcasses with heavy thuds and rips. It’s momentum carried it forwards a few paces before a single beat of its vast wings lifted it off into the sky again, snatching two of Vivian’s own as it did so.

  The two enormous bears were plucked from the ground with ease, as if they were entirely weightless, and the dragon carried them off into the sky for a minute or so, blood dripping from its talons, before dropping them from a terrible height.

  Vivian couldn’t watch as they crashed down through the canopy of the forest, plummeting towards certain death, and the dragon’s brutal and seemingly callous actions only strengthening her resolve further.

  The battle continued to rage on.

  Again, and again, and again, the evil and lust filled dragon dove down to claim Vivian, and time and time again she evaded its attacks, only frustrating the beast evermore. With each strike, images of Emerson flashed through Vivian’s mind, as she saw others being carried off and killed, just as he had been. But she pushed those thoughts from her mind as best she could, and focused on the task at hand.

  Vivian struck down another creature, this time a large, black wolf, as it launched itself at her with bloodlust in its wide eyes, and a familiar surge of guilt filled her heart, though of course she had no choice but to continue.

  Then the skies darkened once more and she crouched low, preparing for yet another attack from above. But this time the strike came slower, and something felt different. Vivian looked up. The dragon was slowing its descent, flapping its huge wings to keep its massive body aloft.

  Something was different.

  Something was wrong.

  The beast took in a great, rumbling breath, inhaling deeply and puffing out its chest. Its black eyes locked onto Vivian’s with terrible menace, and in that moment, though there was nothing she could do about it, she realised what was coming.

  Her whole body tensed rigidly, and fear gripped her in its unescapable vice.

  Many fairy tales and legends of old had spoken of winged serpents that could turn you to stone in a single glance, that could fell a hundred trees by simply beating their wings, and that could breathe vast columns of fire to incinerate their foes. None of the stories however, no matter how embellished they might have been, through years of telling and retelling, came even remotely close to describing the devastation that followed then.

  When the monster exhaled, lurching its great head forwards as it did so, out of its mouth churned great billows of vile, black miasma, rushing and expanding into swelling clouds.

  Vivian looked on in dismay, as did her fellow creatures fighting all around her, as the plague descended down relentlessly upon them.

  It engulfed them completely, spreading out in every direction as it smashed silently into the ground, racing off all around.

  There was nowhere to run. It was impossible to hide, for the plague
was everywhere. And when it touched her skin, when she breathed it in, when it claimed her, Vivian felt instantly overwhelmed by it. The pain was worse than she ever remembered; even from the first time she’d felt it when she’d tried to save Clover.

  The plague burned at her eyes and her skin, and when she breathed it in, gagging desperately for fresh air, it attacked her lungs and her heart.

  For a moment there was nothing but the feeling of death. Vivian had experienced that before, several times over, but this feeling was altogether new, and infinitely more painful. She felt as though her lungs were aflame as the black miasma attacked her, robbing the young Featherstone of her senses, and of all feeling besides agony.

  As hard as Vivian tried to focus her thoughts, it was simply too difficult, and she quickly began to feel death closing in on her, crushing her life from the inside out. Her burning lungs ached for fresh breath, and her eyes had sealed tightly shut now, and her body screamed for relief.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity without respite, Vivian managed to form the remnants of a focused thought, stringing glimpses of them together to form a single, coherent command. And with that, with as much power as she could muster, she forced the plague from her body, expelling it from her lungs and from her blood, and even from her mind, where it had begun to worm its malicious way into her thoughts.

  She screamed as the pain ebbed away, bit by bit, before it eventually vanished entirely. She took a deep, free breath of fresh air, filling her lungs, and opened her eyes, squinting against the light, now that the black fog had lifted.

  But she immediately wished she hadn’t.

  Strewn all about young Vivian, in every direction that she could see, right the way up to the treeline, were the bodies of her fellow fallen creatures. Not a single one of them had survived the attack. Many of them still twitched and convulsed, for the death that the plague brought was not a quick and kind one, but instead a long, slow and torturous one.